


Your Guardian Angel

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Series: Hell and High Water [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: When Gérard Lacroix first brought his wife to Gibraltar, approximately half the Watchpoint fell a little bit in love with her.Doctor Angela Ziegler simply had the misfortune of falling too hard.





	1. Chapter 1

When Gérard Lacroix first brought his wife to Gibraltar, approximately half the Watchpoint fell a little bit in love with her.

And how could they not? The way her long, dark hair cascaded over one shoulder like ink from a well; the way her soft alabaster skin shimmered in the light; the way even her walk was practically a dance... to say nothing of the way she simply exuded sensuality, filling any room she entered with heat and want. Amélie Lacroix was pure physical attraction made flesh, and to ask those she met not to fall for her was futile.

Doctor Angela Ziegler simply had the misfortune of falling too hard.

* * *

She'd been performing self-maintenance at the time.

Angela wasn't...  _ indecent, _ she supposed. She was dressed from the waist down, and had a thin paper hospital gown to protect her modesty, but it was still fully opened at the back to allow herself access to the external plating of her mechanized spine. She controlled the maintenance robotics with a practiced hand, maneuvering the joystick to get a better camera angle on the currently-open panel.

There was a knock on the door behind her, and before she could open her mouth to reply it slid open. She kept her hand steady despite the intrusion; an accidental movement now would trigger a muscle reflex, and she knew firsthand those could be both painful and mortifying.

"Doctor, are you in?" came Gérard's cheerful baritone, booming against the sterilized steel of her lab.

"Gérard," Angela returned with mingled amusement and scolding. "I appreciate that you took the time to knock, but perhaps wait for a response in the future, hm?"

"Ah, my apologies," he said, not sounding particularly repentant. His heavy booted footsteps echoed as he made his way over to her workstation. "Are you busy?"

"I suppose not." It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to hold a consultation while repairing her own workings—it wouldn't even have been the first time she'd spoken with Gérard while doing so. "You'll have to excuse me, Gérard, but I can't turn at the moment—you'll have to come around in front of me."

"Of course, of course." He already knew that. Angela kept her gaze trained on the screen before her as he made his way around. "Angela, I'd like you to meet someone!"

Angela frowned. He hadn't said anything about bringing someone else in. She was accustomed to being caught like this by her fellow Overwatch members, but civilians were another case. "Gérard, I'm not sure this is an entirely appropriate time for..." Her voice died in her throat as she looked up and promptly found herself caught in the amber gaze of his stunning wife. Amélie's eyes crinkled with amusement, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she, too, recognized the ridiculousness of the situation. Or perhaps she recognized the startled, struck-dumb look the doctor sported.

Yes, being caught half-dressed by  _ pretty _ civilians was yet another case. Angela already felt a particularly deep blush painting her cheeks and ears an astonishing shade of red.

" _ Gérard, _ " Angela growled, cutting her steely blue gaze back to him, irate despite her mortification, "your timing is  _ impeccable, _ I see."

He had the decency to look embarrassed on her behalf, combing his fingers back through shorn-short black hair. "Er, yes, so I see—should we come back later or—?"

Angela simply rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid your coming back later will hardly do a lick of good for my newly-shattered dignity," she deadpanned. Amélie covered her mouth with one hand, though it failed to hide her amused smile—nor, god, the soft, husky chuckle that escaped her lips. Angela was altogether enchanted. She tried to compose herself once more, offering out her free hand. "Doctor Angela Ziegler. Pleasure to meet you."

Amélie's smile was infectious. She took Angela's hand in hers, squeezing gently. " _ Salut, _ " she greeted, and in the single word Angela was struck breathless. But the soft kiss Amélie brushed against her cheek—though light and fleeting; a simple greeting kiss—was unexpected enough that Angela's occupied hand twitched.

The motion shot down her spine, and her left knee slammed up against her desk with enough force to make her two guests actually flinch back at the volume. Angela erupted into a flurry of German swears that would've made even Reinhardt blush.

Gérard apologized profusely for the interruption of the sensitive task as he led his wife hastily towards the door.

Angela's knee was bruised black for a week. She was too occupied recalling the way Amélie had tried not to laugh as she was pulled out of her office to care.


	2. Chapter 2

Angela had been working on digital mockups of improvements to her biotic nanobots when a soft two-tapped knock sounded at her door, making her glance briefly up. She'd learned the typical knock patterns of her usual visitors by now. That one was new. Even more surprising, the visitor seemed to actually be waiting for her to acknowledge them before barging inside.

"Come in," she called distractedly, eyes falling to her screen again. She made a minor adjustment to the curve of the bot's underside, streamlining it further. She turned the wireframe model with one finger, considering, and undid the changes, unsatisfied. She tried again as the footsteps drew closer. "What can I do for—" She looked up and was met once more with Amélie Lacroix's captivating amber gaze. Her mouth felt dry. "Oh. Uh... good morning." She sat up straighter at her desk, suddenly acutely aware that slouching in one's office chair and doodling in the air with one finger probably didn't look very professional.

Amélie's brow quirked just slightly. "To you as well, but I'm afraid it's past one o'clock by now, Doctor Ziegler."

Angela blinked hard and checked her desktop clock. "Is it?" It was.  _ Whoops _ . "I suppose the time slipped away from me." It had the tendency to do that when she got wrapped up in her work. She dismissed the model she'd been working on with a graceful wave and clasped her hands together on top of her desk. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Lacroix?"

A soft smile touched her lips. She idly plucked at the sleeve of her sweater. "Amélie is fine."

"Then I insist you call me Angela," she returned smoothly, picking up her nearby mug to take a sip of room temperature coffee. She only just stopped herself from pulling a face at the temperature. "'Doctor Ziegler' is for patients and papers."

Amélie's laugh was soft, scarcely more than a quick exhale, but Angela took some private pleasure at having gotten the sound out of her. "Angela, then." 

Angela smiled. "Pleasure to see you again, particularly as I'm actually fully dressed today." She gestured at her simple skirt-and-button-up combo, earning a genuine laugh that time. "So how can I help you?"

Amélie gave her something of a wry smile. "Gérard invited me to meet with him for lunch today, evidently forgetting that I have no idea where anything is in this base." She gestured at Angela's office door. "I did at least recognize the medical bay while wandering, else I might still be lost. I was hoping you might point me towards the lounge."

The corner of Angela's mouth quirked unbidden. "You're not going to like the answer, I'm afraid. It's on the far side of the base from here."

Amélie wrinkled her nose and muttered lowly in French. Angela chuckled against the rim of her coffee cup. She didn't quite speak French at an expert level—she'd grown up in the primarily German-speaking part of Switzerland—but she knew swearwords when she heard them in  _ any _ language. "I see. Which way—?"

"I can walk you over." The words were out of her mouth before she thought to stop herself, and Angela mentally chastised herself for the too-quick response. "...I mean. I really need to take a break for lunch, myself. So it would be no trouble to take you over there, really." She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her rambling before it started.  _ Stop making an idiot of yourself. _

But the look of relief that passed over Amélie's pretty face shut those thoughts down in an instant. "Gérard was right," she teased lightly, a smile touching her lips. "You're a saint."

Angela pulled a face despite that the praise did make her sit up a little straighter. "Oh, I hope he's not spreading that around. I'm not a miracle worker." She stood, then, a mischievous smile touching her lips. "Well, not usually. Shall we?"

Amélie's cool amber eyes seemed trained on her face as they walked, but Angela didn't dare glance over to confirm it. She occupied herself, rather, by pointing out points of reference in the base so Amélie could more easily find her way around on her next visit.

"Next visit?" Amélie echoed. A slow, small smile quirked at her lips; Angela couldn't fathom what it was for.

She felt her face heat nonetheless. Angela mumbled something about feeling sure she'd like to visit her husband here more than once without getting lost.

"And miss the opportunity to enjoy the company of the stunning Doctor Ziegler?" Angela ducked behind her omnipresent holopad, wishing not for the first time that the projected light screens were more opaque to hide what she felt sure was a scarlet blush in her cheeks. Amélie's laugh was soft and warm, and Angela nearly started at the touch of Amélie's hand at the small of her back. "I do appreciate your patience. I know you have other things to do."

Angela waved off the apology, still half-shrunk into her lab coat to hide her lingering blush. "It's no trouble at all; I'm happy to do it." It'd be nice if the resident French couple could stop trying to cause death by blushing at her expense, but, well.

The smile Amélie gave her was just this side of inappropriate. "I'd watch what you say,  _ docteur. _ I've been told I can be clingy."

Angela was half-tempted to joke that she was fine with pretty girls clinging to her.

She thought better of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no finish
> 
> only start
> 
> (whoops)


End file.
